fickle fickle

ivory and gold and
my eyes opening –
why should i believe it
this time?
sometimes i find notes & lines
i’ve scribbled in places
that lay forgotten
and they feel like secret
messages trying to tell me
something:

‘maybe i just wanted to feel
the blood course through
my veins’

‘you’re only hurting
yourself’

what good are worlds colliding,
coupled with shooting stars
when i’ve already starting to forget.
do you ever remember something
so bittersweet it hurts deep
down in your bones?
i’m good at that.
repressing/forgetting the bad,
whatever you want to call it –
putting on a blank face
but a bright smile.
sometimes i have trouble
keeping my eyes open,
i fool even myself.

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a/n: Yes, I have written better, but my thoughts haven't been too coherent lately and this time of the year makes me tired.